


O d y s s e y

by universepunk



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Shitty Writing, Yaoi, homoftw, jean x marco - Freeform, jeanmarco, snk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universepunk/pseuds/universepunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU fic set in a futuristic world. Jean Kirstein is handed the keys to a space vessel that will allow him to escape the surly bonds of Planet Shiganshina. He quickly finds himself on a crazy voyage with Marco Bodt to find the Universe's Treasure, which will make all his dreams for a better life come true. Those dreams, he finds, also include a certain freckled friend of his. (Yaoi)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Cherished, Boundless Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan. The characters belong to Hajime Isayama. I am gaining nothing from this story apart from writing experience and the lovely entertainment these two dorks provide.
> 
> Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Marco Bodt and mentions of other pairings.
> 
> A/N: To celebrate the amazing end to a crazy semester, I'm publishing this earlier than I planned. I've always liked December, anyway. I can't say how often it'll update, as the story is still forming, but I have the end already planned so I'll get it to that point. Always know your ending for writers! It really helps, trust me.
> 
> This fic is rated M(MA) due to strong language, the likelihood of violence, explicit sexual descriptions, Titan shenanigans, and so on. Also, there are possible spoilers ahead.. for fair warning.
> 
> This story was loosely influenced by Outlaw Star.

What are people's greatest treasures? What is it that should be valued most in the world? Especially when the world's ideas of wealth are in a constant state of evolution as time carries on…

…

Golden sunbeam rays shined down on the planet Shiganshina in sector Maria56, and many bright and exuberant faces walked about its vast capital city that was covered in that familiar, warm glow. Sleek cars flew overhead, some much faster than others, drawing the attention of young children and rambunctious teenagers. The city was truly alive and booming today, more so than usual.

The sunlight also made its way into the jail house, the place where Jean Kirstein had wound up last night. Glancing up through the cell bars, that he knew from firsthand experience were electrified for security, in the window, he gave a heavy sigh. Another hangover, another day where he had to pay for the actions from the night before that he didn't even remember.

It was a shame that he had to witness such a bright and beautiful day from inside his cramped, barren, and exceptionally lonely holding cell.

"Shit…" he cursed lowly while rubbing his aching head consolingly. The very day he turned twenty-one, he'd gone out drinking. It hadn't mattered that he went alone, since he  _usually_  was alone. At that point in his life, he wanted to be an adult; which meant indulging himself in Vine, since that was what he'd seen his parents do when he was young. Now, at the strong age of twenty-five and having quite a bit of experience with it, he was willing to admit he had a  _slight_  drinking problem. But that thought easily vanished when he was in a bar with literally hundreds of different drinks to pick from.

His problem usually exhausted his bank accounts, so he was currently as broke as the sun was bright.

When a guard walked over to his cell and unlocked it, he raised a curious eyebrow.

As if sensing Jean's curiosity, the guard shook his head, "Someone was nice enough to pay your bondage and get you out of here. Don't know who would even go to the trouble though…" he said.

Jean smirked and stood up, glad that  _someone_  was looking out for him, then wasted no time in making his way out of the cell. "See you drones later." He remarked as he walked out of the cell.

"Probably sooner than you think." The guard who let him out replied snarkily.

Rolling his eyes, Jean headed on to the front desk to collect the few belongings of his that had been confiscated the night before. After getting his wallet and checking to see that everything was still there, he took it and his keys and left. He had no time to waste at the jail house.

…

Wandering the extravagant, skyscraper-packed city lit by the sunset's warm glow with only a few bucks on hand was tough—almost impossible.

Getting into any bars was even tougher, considering most of them told him they weren't in the mood for dealing with "chump change-having drunkards". Jean had been chased out of all the bars he stepped foot into, and even the women who filled the backstreets and corners shooed him with threats to make him  _less of a man_  than he already was.

As luck would have it, there  _was_  one bar that accepted his business. It was a bar full of people who looked like they were in their forties and older, practically a dive, but hey, liquor was liquor. At least the darkly lit place had one of those counters that lit up in different colors and a backdrop behind the shelves of alcohol that did the same, only with water and bubbles too. After getting to the counter and ordering a simple round of Vine on the rocks, Jean found himself utterly disappointed in the taste. It was obviously diluted, and there was an after taste that didn't sit well with him either.

Unfortunately, he didn't have money for anything more than Vine, so he made do with what he had.

A little while passed, and with his glass sitting in front of him, full of ice and nothing more, Jean decided to pay his bill and get going. He was just about to get up, but was stopped when an older man came up to him and sat down with a smile as a greeting. He looked at him, noting his hairless head and tired complexion. His clothes were nice, which was to be expected since they were in a bar, but his face held a look that said he'd been through a lot in his long life. Regardless, he wasn't interested in the least. "Look guy, I'm not really into men-"

"Hold your horses, bub! I'm not hitting on you or anything of the sort. I just wanna chat." The old man interrupted.

"Chat, huh?" Jean asked, still a little suspicious.

"Yeah. It's not every day that I get to see a young man like you around in such a casual setting." He said, and then raised his hand in greeting to the bartender, "I'll have a Harrowing Jon on the rocks please."

"This is sounding just like flirting to me…" Jean almost mumbled and watched as the bartender started preparing the drink. She was quite pretty, he noticed, now that he took a good look at her. He considered slipping her his number before he left. Those pants needed getting into, and he wanted to be the one getting in them.

"See, that's the problem with you brats these days. You never listen to adults and you're quick to jump to unnecessary, unreasonable conclusions."

"I'm twenty-five years old! I'm not a brat, you haggard old-"

"What do you value the most, son? Is it Vine? Sake? Gold? Jewels?"

"Heh! Why not value  _all_  of those things? And hell, add women to that list and you've summed my life up in a nutshell. Well, my  _desires_  anyway…" Jean grinned.

The old timer turned his attention down to his drink for a moment. "It takes a lifetime of true struggles for us to learn what's truly valuable. Man's greatest treasure… something worth more than all the riches in this boundless universe… No matter how troublesome and hard it is to keep with us sometimes…" he said after a few seconds of silence. His heavy words failed to match the calm look on his face, as each sentence revealed the forlornness of the life he'd lived.

"What's that? Do you know of something I don't? Is there something out there even more valuable than the money we have in our solar systems?"

Ignoring Jean's subtle insistence that there was nothing out there that could top money's value in life, the old man turned to him, "…Listen, how would you like a ship?"

Jean's brow furrowed and he turned to stare at the older man with complete suspicion. "What?" he said, sure he was hearing things.

"You weren't mishearing things. How would you like a ship?" he repeated.

"Heh, I'd love one! Then I could probably get off this hellhole and go to one of the other planets. Or even one of the other solar systems." Jean said honestly. He'd wound up stuck here while all the others he trained with back in military school, with one exception, had gone off into space to find their paths in life. It was like he was trapped here for the rest of his life with no hope of ever climbing up the ladder to success. Mediocrity was his daily routine, only being able to round up odd jobs through an employment company that found jobs for him.

Ten years ago, when everyone graduated the Training Corps, he vowed to himself he would be great; someone worth the space he occupied. Sadly, those words amounted to absolutely nothing now. His life, given adequate description, was Hell in a shittily decorated hand basket.

If his parents were still alive, he imagined they'd be disappointed in the sorry excuse of a man he'd become... It sank his heart like a brick in a river just thinking about how much he was letting them down, which is why he tried not to.

"Then how 'bout I give you one?"

"You have one to just give away like that?" Jean asked, his eyebrows moving up his forehead just a bit in suspicious curiosity.

The man pulled a set of keys out from his jacket and held them in the palm of his hand, staring down at them intently. "Listen boy. Heed my advice. Nothing in this life comes free but one thing. Until you find out what that thing is, you'll never know what it means to truly be alive."

"Heh... Whatever you say."

"And one more thing."

"So you're actually serious about this?"

With a grim look that spoke to deathly extremes, the old man turned to Jean and stared him dead in the eyes, "Do not dare to dance with the devil when he makes you an offer. You won't make it out alive no matter what conditions may come your way."

Jean swallowed a mouthful of saliva. Never had he heard someone say anything so foreboding before. Never in all his life—and he'd spent plenty of time around Annie during their training…

When the old man slid the keys over to him and stood up, he raised an eyebrow, "You can part with something like a ship so easily?"

After taking one final swig of his drink, the old man turned and looked the wall of expensive vines and other liquors over, "I've wasted my life searching for a treasure that I could never have... Or, more precisely, a treasure I was never  _meant_  to have. I lost precious, irreplaceable things… and can never forget the truest treasures I'd found… but I see something in you that I like. You may just succeed where I failed. It's the older generation's job to pass on what they've attained and hope for the next generation's success. So now that I have… it's time for this old man to wind down and live out the rest of my days in peace. Besides, that thing's just a reminder of my failures, anyway." Jean sat in confusion and watched as the stranger got up and put his overcoat on, "By the way, find a codex if you're interested in chasing after the treasure I looked for. Don't let anyone make you believe it doesn't exist." The man said, and then left the bar, carrying his sorrowful ideals on his broad shoulders.

When he was gone, Jean stared at the door he left through, half expecting him to come back and say it was all a joke. But that never happened. He cautiously glanced down at the keys and felt his heart racing a bit faster than it had in a long time.

This was it. This was his chance to get off this planet! Thanks to that guy with the uncountable number of wrinkles under his eyes, he had an opportunity that he knew would come only once in his lifetime.

After swiftly picking the keys up, he read the digital tag attached to them and saw that the ship was docked at one of the wealthiest docking ports on the planet! Looking at the door the old man had just left through, he wondered if he had found that treasure the outlaws, mercenaries, and space pirates were all adamantly lusting after. He couldn't have, or he wouldn't have been so tired looking and defeated.

Jean looked back down at the keys once more, deciding to go check out the ship tomorrow. But before he did, he knew there was someone he wanted to see first. Tomorrow, though. The day had run its course, and he needed to get some sleep.

* * *

The next day, mid-day.

Giving warm smiles to his fellow coworkers as they headed out on their lunch breaks to a new restaurant that had just opened downtown, Marco Bodt, a friendly, handsome, humble, and incredibly inviting man to everyone he came into contact with, of only twenty-five, made his way back to his desk from the radar in the center of the room. Marco had grown fairly content with his job as a meteorologist for the planet's main news station. It earned him decent money, and he felt like he was doing something useful for the people around him. Of course, with his friendliness and strikingly handsome smile came an unexpected bit of stage fright, meaning it wasn't his face on the news giving weather reports each day. Instead, he just operated the Doppler radar, a machine that calculated the incoming weather conditions. Someone else's face was the face on the daily news.

Today, he had decided to stay at his desk for lunch while the others who were on lunch break at the same time as he was went out. It was that decision that had let one of his lifelong problems, but also one of his greatest blessings, find him at his desk.

Jean Kirstein was a man he unconditionally helped as much as he possibly could whenever he could. He did care about him a lot—more than he could verbally express presently. After all, they'd gone to military school together ten years ago. The amount of bonding they'd done in those harsh, trying times was incredible to say the least. In fact, most everyone from back then agreed that they had one of the closest relationships in the 104th Trainee Squad… It even got to the point where a certain  _someone_  spread a rumor that they were dating.

It took forever and a day for that damn rumor to die…

When he saw Jean approaching, he lightly sighed and wondered just what outlandish and bizarre adventure he'd tell him about today. After all, he didn't visit him at work unless it was "important".

"Marco, you're still working this second-rate job?" Jean asked when he reached said man's desk. He stood there the way he normally did when he visited, with one arm resting on the top tier of Marco's desk where the company logo was imprinted on glass, his right hand in his jacket pocket, and his hip out in an unintentionally sassy way.

"This 'second-rate job' is what paid your bail for all the parking tickets and misdemeanors you've been accumulating. Why do you insist on getting into trouble with the law so much?" Marco replied, and then subtly took a gander at Jean's facial stubble, or lack thereof, for a moment. He'd shaved recently, thank the heavens.

"'Cuz I know you'll save me." Jean said with an innocent grin, referring not only to how Marco had just gotten him out of jail, but also to the many times he'd "saved" him in the past. "Thanks for bailing me out by the way. I owe you."

"Don't mention it. I get the feeling I'll be bailing you out a lot in the future…" Marco said with a sigh. "I assume you've got some big story to tell me, because you only visit me at work when that's the case… or if you need money."

"You always try to play me for a leech or something, but I actually  _do_  have something important to tell you."

"Oh? Go ahead. I'm listening." Marco insisted as he turned his full attention to the man standing beside him.

Jean took note of the man's style for the unteempth time, which was always somewhat reminiscent of a father's from the way he tucked his polo shirts into his khaki pants. "Actually, maybe I shouldn't tell you about this…" he said, seriously considering whether he should or not.

"Make up your mind, Jean."

"Fine." Jean did just that and got closer to Marco, "Keep this between us, a'right? Kay, so… I just got this ship from some old guy! He gave it to me because he said he was tired or something. I don't really remember. But anyway, now I can finally get off this damned planet!" he whispered, excitement booming from the look on his face.

A little warm from the closeness and the feeling of Jean's breath on his skin, Marco pulled away, "You must've had too much vine last night."

"No, I didn't! I hardly drank at all! I swear!"

"Nothing in this world comes free, Jean... You know that."

"Oh yeah? Well lookie here!" Jean said, then pulled the keys out from his pants pocket and showed them to his dubious, freckled friend.

Marco took the keys into his hand and became confused. "Who would give you the keys to a cargo ship like this?"

"Wh- Cargo ship?!" Jean shouted disbelievingly, one of his eyes twitching a bit.

"Yeah, it says it right here." The tan man said, pointing to the words on the back of the digital screen.

Jean sweatdropped. "Eeeh… S—so what? It's still a ship!"

"…" Marco poked his lips out and had a skeptical look on his face.

"And I'm gonna take every last penny I own and put it into this ship so I can finally get off this god forsaken planet!"

It wouldn't be anything to write home about.

With disappointment filling him to the brim, Marco turned around and tried returning to his lunch that was coupled with lackluster paperwork. "It's your life, Jean. Do what you want with it. Just… don't waste it on alcohol and cat houses… okay?" he said without looking at the man. If he did, he would probably be tempted from his clenching gut to ask him not to leave.

Jean slipped the keys back into his jacket pocket, then looked around to make sure no one was in the area before getting closer to Marco again, "Marco, you should come  _with_  me! It'd be so much fun, and the women would be even better than they are here!" He whispered, making pure assumptions based on his own hopes.

Marco inhaled sharply and even felt his breath hitch for a moment. He got ready to grab his inhaler from his top desk drawer, but when he calmed and started breathing normally again, he calmed down and thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't become so vulnerable in front of Jean, let alone at work. He was the rock in their friendship, and needed to put on a brave front to keep Jean from crumbling under the many immense pressures of adulthood. "Jean, I can't just up and leave like that. I have a job here—a  _life_  here. And besides that,  _I'm_  on the right side of the law. If you came here to beg me for money for this trip of yours, I'm sorry but I don't have any to give you right now."

"Marco…" Jean was beyond crestfallen to hear that, and it sounded in his voice.

"I have work to do, so please… you should go." Marco said, wishing that weren't the case and also feeling incredibly guilty. He did enjoy having Jean around… the few times he did come around to actually hang out. "Call me later if you need anything." He finished, implying that he did still want to spend time with him even if they would just be talking over the phone.

Still disappointed that Marco, the person he  _always_  expected to stay at his side, wasn't willing to come with him, Jean looked down at the floor for a moment. Then, he took two steps back and turned to leave. If nothing else, he now knew he had to get rich so he could flaunt it to all his haters, but also, with all his heart, he wanted to repay Marco for all the times he'd helped him out in the past.

* * *

A few hours later...

As he entered the expansive docking port, Jean, with a duffel bag over his shoulder, looked around trying to figure out which of the skyward-facing ships was his. Most of them looked very sleek and were classily decorated. White was a common color in this dock, and so were golden and platinum adornments.

Walking over to the office, he entered and went straight to the front desk.

"Can I  _help_  you, sir?" the clerk asked, a tone evident in his voice as he was sure he couldn't help this street lurker.

Jean quickly fumbled about his jacket, then finally found and pulled out his keys, showing the tag to the man, "I'm looking for the dock with this ship."

"… Dock twelve… Are those  _your_  keys?"

"Yep!"

"Well… your ship is waiting for you, then."

"Thanks." Jean said, then turned and was quick to get out of the condescending man's company before he said something to him that would get him in trouble.

The clerk squinted at him as he left, then turned to his computer and pulled up a list of wanted persons.

* * *

"Whoa! Holy fucking shit on a stick!" Jean exclaimed, shamelessly excited that his new ship was so substantial in size. It stretched up to the sky and reflected the sunlight like he'd never seen before. Why was that old man tired of chasing a treasure in  _this_  thing?

It was dynamic, slim, and sleek all in one sky-stretching bundle. The dark shade of gray with gold and white accents made it look like the ship of a king. As Marco had said, it was definitely a cargo ship, but it wasn't obvious from first glance. The design was very aerodynamic for a cargo ship.

"Hey, that's a nice ship you got there."

Jean hurried to turn around when he heard the sound of that voice, "MARCO?!"

"That's right." said man grinned. Jean noticed that something about him seemed… odd now. Incredibly unusual. But not in a bad way. He was  _fresh,_  even. He'd decided to wear very casual clothes—a semi-tight red and white t-shirt, some dark grey shorts that had a glowing blue stripe up the sides, and black boots—and even his demeanor was much more lax than it had been earlier today.

"What happened to you? And what are you doing here?" Jean asked with a smile that easily rivaled his friend's. Marco just couldn't resist the idea of leaving the planet after all.

"Nothing happened. And as for  _why_  I'm here… I wanted to see the ship, that's all. Don't get any ideas!"

Squinting and smirking at the thing that proved his words to be false, Jean pointed it out. "What's that bag on your back for then?"

Marco felt his cheeks go warm and he looked away, "It's nothing!"

Jean's grin stretched from ear to ear, which was something he never ever usually did for anyone, mind you, and ran over to Marco, "Marco, come with me! Be my navigator! I'll die out there without your help!" he declared, taking the slightly taller man's arm into his mannish hand.

"Jean, I did a lot of thinking, and I wanna tell you this before I lose my nerve-"

"THERE HE IS!"

Jean looked over Marco's shoulder and Marco turned around slightly. Both of their brown eyes went wide when they saw a group of security guards speeding their way on motorbikes.

"SHIT!" Jean shouted in both surprise and annoyance. Well, there was only one thing to do now! "Marco, it's now or never!" he exclaimed, then tore off to the stairwell that would lead him up to the ship's main door.

Marco nodded and followed after Jean. But instead of taking the stairs that stretched up for what seemed like miles of breathless misery, he decided to take the elevator that was off to itself in a corner. He wasn't in the mood to become exhausted, as his mild case of asthma would certainly flare up if he followed Jean thoughtlessly.

Admittedly, waiting patiently in the elevator as it climbed its way to the top floor was fairly anti-climactic, and the mellow music playing only made it seem as though he wasn't being pursued at all. If nothing else, he had a good view of the glamorous, skyward-stretching city overrun with hundreds of skyscrapers. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, he hurried out and looked over to the staircase. Jean hadn't arrived yet.

"Jean…" he breathed, full of worry, and then ran over to the bars lining the edge of the platform. It hadn't exactly occurred to him how high he was from the ground, and being faced with such a terrifying height where he could hardly see the ground so suddenly made him almost lose his balance. He quickly stepped back and fell on his posterior with a heavy sigh.

For just a few seconds, he was able to regain his composure until Jean tore up the stairs and reached the top level, fumbling with the keys and not even looking where he was going. "Damn it! I said unlock!" he shouted at them, then pressed the button on his keypad.

"Jean!"

"Marco!" Jean's eyebrows flew up his forehead and he stopped altogether, "You're coming with me after all?!"

"Yeah! But we won't be going anywhere if we get caught!" Marco replied, then stood up and hurried over to Jean.

"I'm telling this thing to unlock, but it won't listen to me!"

Marco looked over Jean's shoulder as they ran and shook his head. "It's saying it's already unlocked… in the bottom right corner."

"N-no way!" Looking down to the indicated corner, Jean squinted, "Wow… this thing is so… stupid." The metallic door automatically slid open as the two of them reached it, and Jean turned around and saw the security guards closing in on them. With haste, he hurried inside, where the gravity was shifted thanks to the ship's direction, and when Marco was in behind him, he started slamming his hand on the lit-up screen beside the door, "Shit, close! Close, damn you!"

"Excuse me, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't do that." A voice called over an intercom.

Jean stopped banging the door control panel and looked around carefully. "Who said that…?"

"Oh, it seems there is a large group of people aggressively pursuing you."

"What?!"

Marco gazed around the corridor they were standing in and raised an eyebrow, "Is this the ship's computer speaking?" he asked.

"Why yes it is, sir. I am Sir Marksman the Second. Pleased to make your-"

"MJ*, for the love of God, close the door!" Jean roared.

"Of course, sir." The door closed quickly, then the sounds of latches locking echoed from it. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Yeah, where's the cockpit? It's time to blow this popsicle stand!"

"Take the corridor you're in all the way to the green arrow on the wall and you'll find it."

"Come on, Marco." Jean said as he started to do just that.

As the two of them floated up the corridor following the green-lit arrows, Marco couldn't help himself from wondering if what he did was the right choice. Leaving everything he'd built here to wander around the galaxy aimlessly… With Jean… For his sake…

Jean turned and looked down at Marco, "You okay?" he asked.

"Y—yeah."

"Did you bring your inhaler? I know you don't need it too much, but we can wait out the guards if you didn't." Jean always had Marco's best interest in mind. It was an instinct of his to look after him, especially after what happened all that time ago…

With a surprised look on his face at the concern Jean was showing for him, Marco took a moment before he replied, "I brought it. But I don't really need it. Thanks for asking, though." He smiled.

"Can't have a friend dying on my watch." Jean grinned. "Oh, we're at the end of the corridor." he said as he looked around. There was a door before him, so he pressed the button beside it. "MJ, let me in."

The door slid open and the cockpit was revealed to them, "Where is the Captain?" Marksman asked when the two boys entered.

"…" Jean stared at Marco, who stared right back at him and raised his shoulders. "I'm the captain." He said quickly.

"There appears to be data on a previous crew that is… oh my! It seems to be heavily encrypted. Shall I try accessing it?"

"N—no. Listen to me.  _I'm_  the captain of this vessel now! Jean Kirstein!" Jean ordered.

"Understood." Marksman said as he took a digital photo of Jean. "And who is that person behind you?" he asked as he saw Marco put his duffel bag down.

Looking over his shoulder for a second, Jean smiled. "This is Marco Bodt. He's the navigator, and the vice-captain of this ship." He replied.

"Understood. I have your information saved in the ship's database now." Marksman paused for a moment and the sound of data being searched through echoed in the room. "Oh my! It seems that you have a warrant out for your arrest, Captain Kirstein!"

"WHAT?! A WARRANT!?"

"It was just issued a few minutes ago by The Goddess' Internal Security Department."

"Shit! Ugh! W—well…! We're leaving, anyway!" Jean shouted, and then floated over to the captain's seat in the center of the room. To his left and right just a few inches closer to the floor than his seat was, there were seats. In front of him, there was another seat with an inactive digital keyboard in front of it. In front of the crew's seating arena, there was a large window divided into three sections that stretched all the way around the cockpit, allowing for full view of the blue sky above.

"This must be the navigator's seat." Marco said, taking the seat that was directly behind Jean, suspended a bit above his on a second level of the room. The floor beneath him looked as if it would open up, given the splits in it that all met at a central point and also for the fact that it was a dark gray compared to the rest of the floor in the cockpit, but it didn't.

"Captain, there is someone on the ground level of the docking arena with a message for you." Marksman said.

"What? I don't have time for that! And like hell I'm leaving this ship with those coppers out there trying to tase me to death!"

"I'll pull up a live window."

A live tile of the chief of the ISD appeared. "JEAN KIRSTEIN! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"

"Yeah right!" Jean roared. "MJ, it's time for liftoff!"

"But sir, the gas reserves are low, and I believe there are agents trying to access it as we speak."

"ALL THE MORE REASON TO GO!"

"I'm seeing green across the board, Jean." Marco said. "There aren't any problems with the engines, the gas we have is sufficient for getting us into space, and there are no reports of galactic storms to be wary of."

"FUCK YES!" Jean grinned, and then looked to the chief of the ISD, "STICK YOUR HEAD IN A PILE OF COW SHIT AND TELL YOUR FAMILY ABOUT IT!" He told him, pulling his eye down at the man childishly.

"Sir, we are ready for liftoff. Use the pedals at your feet to begin launch sequence."

"Alright! Liftoff in three-"

"I'LL HAVE YOU LOCKED AWAY FOREVER, KIRSTEIN!" Chief Dawk roared.

"Two!"

"Don't forget to fasten your safety belts." Marksman said.

"One!"

"We're really about to do this, Jean." Marco smiled.

"RIGHT! LIFTOFF!" Jean hollered, stomping down on the gas pedal as hard as he could.

The ship started rumbling almost immediately and the ground began to tremble. All agents trying to stop Jean from leaving Shiganshina evacuated the area as the ship emitted the scorching exhaust from its four main propulsion engines. Slowly but surely, the ship started pulling off from the dock. The arms holding it in place released and pulled away.

Even with the dozens of people at the space station yelling at him, and even with the Internal Security Department agents promising him they'd have his head, Jean kept his eyes focused on that boundless blue sky above. His journey was beginning now. It was his chance to stop chasing chump change and become someone important.

"LET'S GOOO!" he hollered up to the sky as his ship launched at full speed and tore its way through the atmosphere.

His adventure was beginning now! The immeasurable, danger-stricken galaxy was now his to explore!


	2. Difference between Boys and Men

If freighter Operating Systems could drop sweat, Marksman II would certainly be doing so, "Captain Kirstein, would you please take your seat and  _pilot_  this vessel?" he asked as one of his miniature bodies descended from the ceiling into the cockpit.

Jean turned from looking out at the infinite star-filled ocean that was deep space and stared at the soda can-looking robot for a moment, staring without shame at him. "PAHAHAHAHA!" he bellowed, holding his sides and nearly falling forward.

"What is  _so_  funny?" Marksman asked.

"Your body is! It's… It's like a soda can! If we took you down from the ceiling and put you in the fridge, I'm sure someone would mistake you for a drink!" Jean continued laughing hysterically.

The sound of Jean's obnoxious laughter was enough to make Marksman retreat into the ceiling and let his stationary body located above the cockpit's front window do the talking, "It is getting late. If you are not going to pilot the ship, then at least go away and let me handle it."

After standing to his full height and getting the last of the laughs out of his system, Jean nodded. "Go ahead. Have a field day with it." He said.

"I hope you'll be ready to read over the manual tomorrow morning. And hopefully you can find some maturity between now and then." Marksman said as he watched Jean leave the room through the hallway that led to the sleeping chambers.

* * *

Sitting in the kitchen at the bar and reading over some space weather reports on one of the tablets he'd found on the counter, Marco couldn't help but let his mind wander from the forecasts. Now that he was here in space with nothing keeping him from the endless expanse known as the universe, he started wondering if this was a good idea. He'd abandoned everything he'd grown used to on Shiganshina. Every single thing he had. All for-

"Yo, Marco!" Jean greeted as he came into the kitchen.

"Hey." Marco replied after looking up. He made sure to give a small smile to Jean; anything to make the man feel more confident in the choice he'd made to leave the planet and venture out into infinite space.

"Man, this kitchen is pretty cool. It's even got an island, which I've always wanted." The kitchen was indeed nice. It seemed brand new. The cabinets were in pristine condition, and they lined the walls flawlessly. There was a decently sized sunroof that allowed space to be seen. There was also a large, tiled backsplash behind the stove that was white and dark blue. All in all, it seemed like the kind of kitchen an incredibly well-off person would have. "Hey, you don't have any shortness of breath or anything, huh?" the brunette asked as he walked over and took a seat on one of the fancy couches across from the bar where Marco was seated.

"No. There's oxygen in the ship, Jean. I'm fine. I honestly haven't needed my inhaler for a long time now." Marco almost laughed as he spoke.

"Oh…"

"Thanks for worrying though."

"No problem, man."

"…So… uh, it looks like we won't encounter any space storms if we keep on our current trajectory."

"That's good."

"And gas reserves are holding out, it seems. But still, Marksman told me we should consider refueling soon."

"Refueling? Uuuh… Shit! I don't have money for the gas this ship needs! That stuff costs a fortune!" Jean shouted and threw his head back in defeat.

"Neither do I. What should we do? We can't keep going on the little gas we do have, you know."

"I know."

"…" Marco avoided looking over at Jean, whose Adam's Apple was protruding quite a lot since he was leaning his head back on the couch. "We could take up jobs." He offered.

"That means we have to land somewhere soon."

"Yeah. The next planet should be Trost… But we have to pay for parking before we do anything, you know."

"God, everything costs money!" Jean lamented at the top of his lungs.

"True… But we'll be okay, Jean."

"…"

"I'm getting a bit tired, so I'm gonna go take a bath." Marco said as he turned the tablet off and put it down on the counter where he found it.

"Hey, these things have those spa-like bathrooms, don't they?"

"I think so."

"Let's go do that then."

Marco almost blushed, "Together?!"

"Yeah, we've done it before. What's the big deal?" Jean asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

Averting his eyes, the freckled-man looked to the floor. "Nothing…"

"Then come on!"

* * *

The bathroom was extravagantly large and unexpectedly spa-like. There were multiple shower stalls that doubled as bath tubs as well, a large hot tub in the center floor, surrounded by a step layer, a few steam ports in the walls that would turn the room into a sauna, and a large window in the ceiling that gave a glimpse of the endless expanse of stars outside. Most of the room was tiled, and thankfully, there was a room just before this one where clothes, towels, and anything else someone wouldn't want getting wet from water or steam could be kept.

"This is just fucking amazing!" Jean admired as he walked into the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. The hanging lights were what really got his attention. They were all bright, but a panel on the wall told him the brightness could be adjusted.

Well, it took him no time at all to dim them down.

Marco heard Jean flipping out in excitement from where he was in the changing room.

After stepping out of his underwear, he pulled towel around himself and walked over to the door. It slid open and he entered. To his surprise, it was very dim. The lights suspended from the ceiling were either broken or possibly adjustable. When he turned and saw the panel to adjust them mounted just beside the doorway, he had his answer.

Jean was sitting in the hot tub, his towel folded and covering his eyes and forehead.

"Marco."

"Yeah?"

"You give good massages?"

"Uhm… why do you ask?"

"Well, I always heard guys who like guys gave good massages."

"You shouldn't listen to or perpetuate stereotypes. I don't even see how that could be believable…"

"Wanna give me one?"

"You're not nervous or anything?" Marco teased.

"Well, you like girls too, right? It's fine. Besides, it's you. If it was anyone else, I wouldn't go for it."

Marco walked through the humid room and came up behind Jean, then took a seat on the step the man was using to rest his elbows on, and then sat down behind him, his legs on either side of him in the hot water. "I wanted to talk to you about that. It's what I've been meaning to tell you about for a while now... I just haven't found the way to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I'm… ah…" Marco swallowed a desperate mouthful of saliva. "Well I'm not as interested in women as I used to be. In fact, I don't really know that I'm still physically attracted to any woman." he admitted hesitantly as his heart was nearly jumping out from his chest. The ensuing silence marinated his confession in the steamy room. Though, that silence grew in duration to near unbearable extremes, so noticeable that it could almost literally be sliced through by a plastic butter knife. This was only to be expected though, with a secret like that one. Jean was probably really uncomfortable now.

"Really?" Jean asked, breaking the uncomfortable quiet that had gripped the room. He leaned forward, noticeably putting some distance between them. A blind man could see that that's what he was doing.

"Yeah. I didn't know how you'd feel about bringing me with that knowledge, so that's why I wanted to tell you  _before_  we left." Marco uttered shamefully. "But you know how things went at the docks… It was too crazy to stop and tell you."

"What makes you think that'd bother me?" Jean asked, pulling his towel down from covering his eyes and laying it on the floor beside Marco's leg.

"It's just something I thought you should know. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything."

After looking over his shoulder for a moment, Jean shook his head at Marco and grinned, "I'd be uncomfortable if you  _weren't_  here. I can't survive without my saving grace."

"Jean-"

"By the way, I still want that massage… if you care to give it to me."

Relief gradually stretched its way across Marco's face in the form of a gentle smile. He reached out and pulled Jean back so he was just a breath away, and then grabbed both his shoulders. "I guess this isn't the weirdest thing we've done." He joked, making light of the slightly awkward situation. Jean  _was_  naked and sitting in between his legs, while Marco himself was only wearing a towel to cover himself as he gave him a massage.

"Yeah. Besides, I don't mind—AAAH!"

"You okay?" Marco asked, retracting his hands as quickly as he would if he'd touched an open flame.

"Fine… ugh… that just felt really good..."

"You're very tense. Been working at the construction site again?" he asked, knowing that Jean always managed to rustle up some work that was very labor-intensive. The construction site was one of his least favorite places to work, and on the rare occasions he visited Marco after a long and strenuous day to complain, he usually fell asleep on the couch with a beer in his hand.

"I stopped working there about a week ago. Can't believe that heavy lifting had such a long-lasting effect on my body… Shit…" he groaned, rolling his shoulder to try working out the kinks. "But anyway, none of those crappy jobs matter anymore. We're out here in space now! The universe is ours to explore!"

"We'll have to get jobs eventually, even if they're just temporary." Marco said, now missing the stability of his old job. It was an irrational decision he made, leaving so suddenly on a hopeless odyssey into space for Jean's sake, but there was no way he could live with himself for the rest of his life if something happened to Jean because he let him leave on his own. On Shiganshina, it was different. They could reach each other if the need arose. But being light-years apart? That was a strain he wasn't willing to undergo.

"I know." Jean practically sighed.

"You're a hasty guy, you know."

Shrugging, he smirked, "I take my chances when they come."

"You don't need to tell  _me_  that. I've had to save you so many times before."

"So what would you have done if you inherited this ship?"

"Well, assuming the paperwork for it was done and it was in my name, I'd sell it. That's the rational thing to do. Then I could've had a bigger nest egg in case something went wrong."

"No way. So you never wanted to leave Shiganshina? Ever?"

"Not really… I enjoy stability." Marco replied wholeheartedly. "Anyway, you need to make sure this thing is in your name when you get the chance."

"I already got MJ to delete the previous crew's info and put ours in. He registered it in my name after he did that. It's fine now. I just have a fee to pay…"

"Can't hurt to check the records at the DSV*. The last thing you need is another charge against your record."  _*(Department of Spaceship Vessels)_

Jean sighed and leaned back, pressing the back of his head his back against Marco's inviting stomach. Marco grew warm and stopped massaging him. When Jean felt him stop, he looked up into those coffee brown eyes. "I'm curious." He admitted straight out of the blue.

"About what?"

"You have a lot of sex?"

"I—What a weird thing to be curious about!" Marco nearly shouted, his eyebrows furrowed a bit in confused surprise. Jean stared up at him still, making him nervous. Inevitably, he caved. He always did. "Okay…" he breathed out, ready to begin, "So I was seeing someone for a while and things were going just fine. He was the kind of guy you could build a life with, you know…? A family and a home… But we broke it off shortly after he got a job in another city. He didn't really want to negotiate it since it was his 'one chance in a million'. Needless to say, we realized a long distance relationship wouldn't—um! Wait! Why do you want to know about my personal life?!"

"I'm just asking. We haven't talked about stuff like this in ages…" Jean replied honestly and a bit glumly with a shrug as he recalled their early teenage years when all they did was talk together, spending days under the clouds and nights under the stars rattling on as boys often did about the great unknown future. He missed those days… But alas, adulthood soon sprang itself upon them both and left no room for idle, innocent, and incandescent aspirations in its bleak, demanding, and austere wake.

"We're not kids anymore, that's why we haven't... Your private business is yours, and I have mine."

"S'not like we can't talk about it now." Jean offered, his innocence and desire to return their relationship to the way it once was showing through unintentionally and unbeknownst to him.

"Are you that interested?"

"Kinda." He said simply.

Marco sighed and directed his attention back to their position, which was nothing short of  _interesting_. "You know Jean,  _this_  is why people always thought we were dating. You're waaay too comfortable around me…"

"Don't say stuff like that! Of course I am! You're my best friend!" Jean declared sincerely, then closed his eyes and brought his arms up to rest them on Marco's thighs, "Besides, I couldn't give two shits what everyone else thinks. I know what I am…" he said, all of his current actions meaning to emphasize his exceptionally bold point.

Marco tried bringing his thighs together a little. "Um… I don't know that this is a good position…"

When he felt something hard press against his back from under Marco's towel, Jean's eyes popped open and he jumped forward, "Marco-"

"It's not my fault!  _You're_  the one who's so comfortable around me!" said man blushed profusely, desperately avoiding eye contact and closing his legs tightly now that there was nothing keeping them from being able to do so.

Jean shook his head and grinned, "I'm honestly just surprised. In all our time every being physically close to each other, you never got a hard-"

"Alright! We can drop it!"

"Heh, well, I'm done here." Jean said, then retrieved his towel, covered himself under the water, and stood up. "You… uh… you keep yourself in check, yeah? Bad uh… bad dog." He joked before he stepped out of the water and went on his way.

Marco fell into his hand and let out a heavy sigh against it. Jean was too eccentric for his own good sometimes.

* * *

"Well, well. Captain Kirstein." Marksman said as Jean came into the cockpit, barely dressed in pants and no shirt with oddly red ears.

"What?" Jean said as he took a seat in one of the random seats in the room. "It's cold in here, by the way."

"Are you prepared to read the manual for this vessel?"

"M—manual?!"

Out from the ceiling, a thick, neatly bound manual descended in front of Jean, who ignored it by looking the other way. "Read it," Marksman said, releasing the heavy object and letting it fall right on Jean's lap.

Jean cursed and pushed the book to the floor angrily. "Why should I read a stupid manual?! Give me some practical examples of the procedures!"

"Because there's no way you could get practical experience from something like having one of the main engines going out from, say, an explosion. Attempting some of the procedures now is inadvisable at this time." Marksman replied, then his camera focused in on the person coming into the cockpit. "Hello Mr. Bodt."

Marco looked up to Marksman and nodded in greeting, "Ready to teach me to navigate this thing?" he asked.

"Of course. Make your way up to where you were seated before, but don't sit down. You'll soon find a much more effective way of navigating if you utilize this ship to its maximum potential." Jean watched as Marco climbed the stairs to the arena just behind his own seat. "Please remove your clothes."

"Huh?"

"Remove his clothes?!" Jean echoed, just as confused as Marco was.

"Wear this." The OS said, lowering a pair of tight shorts to the freckled man, "The developers of this ship developed the liquid you'll submerge yourself in to be regenerative to human skin, however, they were so concerned with that idea that some of the agents in the liquid are corrosive to basic clothing, especially cotton. Perhaps they expected a female to pilot and wanted that, however, this did not go over well with the head of the R&D for this vessel. She quickly had basic outfits developed at the utmost last-minute. I only have this one and the one for a female navigator, so do take care not to ruin it. If you do, you'll have to be in the chamber naked."

Marco took the shorts and blushed a bit. But he turned his back to Jean, even though he couldn't see his lower half given they were on two separate levels of the cockpit, and then started undressing. After sliding the shorts on, which were very tight and showed off all of the little curves, folds, and muscles he had to offer, he folded his old clothes and dropped them on the floor on Jean's level.

"Good." Marksman said.

Suddenly, the floor around Marco's arena rose to the ceiling, hiding him away from Jean.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" Jean shouted.

"Just watch." The OS replied.

The sound of water filling the chamber sounded. Jean tore his way up the stairs and started banging on the metal wall that separated him and Marco, "Damn it! He's not a robot! He can't breathe if you put him in a tank of water."

"Jean, calm down!" Marco's voice came from behind the wall.

The cockpit darkened, as all the lights in the room were going down. Jean looked around wondering why that happened. And slowly, the metal wall lowered, revealing a glass wall as it descended. Jean's mouth opened and he gaped a bit at the sight before him.

Marco was submerged in a strange fluid behind the wall. It was strange because, well, it didn't exactly look like water. It looked like  _space_. It was dark, but filled to the brim with tiny stars. Marco himself was a bit lit up thanks to the stripes running the length of his shorts, which were very tight on him. The moment Jean's eyes ran Marco over, they wandered down to his groin, then when he realized that's where he was staring, he looked away.

It was only natural, he reasoned. After all, in all their years as friends, he'd never seen Marco completely naked. It was human curiosity at its simplest.

"Marksman, what is this?" Marco asked, moving his arms and legs about as he floated in the arena.

"Your navigation system, of course. The liquid you are floating in is one that does the work you normally do by breathing—oxidizing your blood. As for navigation, you have a complete view of this ship's surroundings in your arena. Consider it your glimpse into the galaxy around you."

"Whoa! That's amazing! I can't believe a simple cargo ship could have something so top-grade…" the obsidian-haired man commented. Reaching out, he instinctively waved his hand in the direction of the next planet. "Trost isn't that far from us. We must be traveling at a great speed."

"Really?" Jean asked.

Marco looked at him and smiled, "Heheh! This is really nifty!"

"Tell me about it!"

"I'll get some details for you, alright?"

"Okay!" Jean nodded, now excited about this ship and much more inspired to keep going on this voyage. "Marksman, let's get to my tutorial!"

"Take your seat then, please."

Doing as he was told, Jean flashed a small grin. His blatant eagerness dissipated, however, when a large manual screen came up in front of his steering wheel. "W—what?"

"It's too dark in the room for the book. Unless you'd prefer that." Marksman said, lowering a thick, heavy manual from the ceiling.

"Where do you keep this stuff, anyway?!" Jean fumed, waving the book away.

Spreading his legs and putting them up on either side of his dashboard, he started reading what was on the digital owner's manual.

As the ship traveled through space and both its occupants were busy figuring out their respective positions via manuals, it was incredibly silent. Marksman had nothing to say, so he too was quiet. The only thing to be heard was the sound of the engines, firing on at their best output.

Eventually, a planet came into view.

"Jean, I have information to share." Marco said.

"Yeah?" said man replied, looking over his shoulder. Marco was clearly having fun, floating there half-naked with his subtle musculature on display.

"As for storms, we're okay. There's no ether waves or anything in the vicinity. I also don't see any Titans in the 360 view. And with parking fees for Trost, we'll have to take the cheapest one they have."

"How much is it?"

"10,000 Historions."

Jean cringed, his eyes went wide, and he gulped, " _That's_  the cheapest?! I don't have that much!"

"Yeah, we can pay in installments if we need to."

"Is  _30_  Historions an option?"

"Eh… It says the minimal is 2,000. The rest can be paid over the course of a week. Seems like they ensure you pay by holding your ship until you do."

Jean turned back to look out the window ahead of him at the planet, so big and green-ish orange in its entirety. "Fuck."

"Alternatively, and I don't know that this is legal, or if Marksman would like it, we could simply park out in the countryside. That'd be free, and if we could hide it from the MPs somehow, we could manage to get by. But still, gas refueling comes at the docking ports… Either we park for free and refuel the ship ourselves, or we park and pay installments on the parking fee."

"…"

"Jean."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll park at the port. We can't do anything without gas in this thing. I guess I'll pay the minimum."

"How?"

"I'll just overdraft my account."

"By 2,000 Historions?"

"Yeah..."

That certainly told Marco just how far Jean was willing to go for this trip to... wherever it was they were going. "Hey, I can pay half so you don't have to deal with it alone." He said, feeling partially responsible that he hadn't really been able to persuade Jean into maintaining the life they had on Shiganshina. Though, Jean getting the keys to this vessel was completely out of his control.

"You have money to spare?"

"Not really, but we're partners." Marco smiled. "Besides, now that we're out here, we're pretty much outlaws, huh? A negative balance in my account is no big deal."

"Heh, if only the others could see you now…" Jean smirked at just how much Marco was coming over to the dark side that existed outside his perfect little world where bills got paid on time and where he never got in trouble with the police, "Fine, we'll do it together."

"I do want to pull the actual money I have out of my account just so I won't lose it completely. You and I will need to get jobs fast though, regardless. I mean, I don't want my account to be negative forever… And we need food, and water, and clothes… Plus gas for the ship."

"Marco, you're not making this any better…"

"Sorry…"

"MJ, can we stay on board the ship while you're parked?"

"Only if you have gas to keep systems operational. If you don't, I cannot run to support you."

Jean sank in his seat. So with all the expenses thrown their way, shelter was another one? This was a bit too much already… And he wondered if he should just quit when he got to Trost. Start fresh there…

Looking over his shoulder, he relinquished that idea when he saw Marco flipping through some virtual panels that had lodgings on Trost. He'd already left Shiganshina, where Commander Dawk had coincidentally been to try apprehending him, so he was technically wanted… He figured he might as well keep going this perilous, outlaw-ish path…

**Author's Note:**

> *MJ – Marksman Junior. Jean's immediate nickname for Marksman.
> 
> A/N: This'll probably be the only time I say this, but any comments you have, feel free to post them. If you liked the chapter, don't hesitate to bookmark this story.


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